James Bolton became anxious. With so many of us here, why aren’t we rushing in to gang up on him?

So he quickly shouted, “Brothers, get in there!”

When nothing happened, he yelled again, “Brothers, follow me! Now’s the time to make a name for ourselves!”

“……”

Though he said “follow me,” in reality James Bolton was just trying to rile them up—he had no intention of charging in first.

And those little lackeys didn’t seem stupid either; they weren’t fooled by James Bolton’s tactical fake charge, and all remained lying low on the ground, silent.

Off to the side, Henry Cooper saw that the big brother had already rushed in and got anxious too. In a flash, he charged out, drew the saber at his waist, and shouted, “Bastards! Think about how Big Brother Smith has treated you all! If Big Brother Smith dies today, none of us will make it off this mountain alive! Kill with me! Whoever charges ahead gets three taels of silver as a reward!”

Chapter Four: A Great Achievement

This seemed to inject the temps with a shot of adrenaline.

One person was the first to rush out, shouting, “Captain Cooper, you better keep your word…”

“What the hell…” James Bolton stared in shock as one after another charged out, and in an instant, they were tangled up in a brawl with the burly William Carter.

He saw one temp, as weak as a chicken, get grabbed and thrown aside by William Carter.

James Bolton looked around, wanting to rush in, but his legs wouldn’t move.

His heart was pounding, and his scalp tingled.

Especially in the darkness, where the clash of blades sent up sparks that flashed and vanished in an instant—James Bolton felt his legs go even weaker.

But the fighting in the distance was even fiercer. This William Carter truly lived up to his fearsome reputation—even with seven or eight people attacking him, he fought with gusto. Two or three temps had already fallen, and even Edward Smith was barely holding on, retreating again and again with his blade.

James Bolton steeled himself and gritted his teeth: “Here I come!”

At this point, there was no turning back.

James Bolton grabbed a saber and charged in like a madman.

William Carter, entangled in the fight, had already taken a few wounds, but this only made him angrier. He kicked a lackey flying and, realizing Edward Smith was a tough opponent, focused on battling him.

But suddenly, James Bolton charged in from behind at an angle, shouting, “Second Brother Cooper, attack from his left rear!”

Who knows if that actually helped.

James Bolton just put all his strength into it and swung his saber from the right rear.

William Carter knocked aside Edward Smith’s blade, glanced to his left rear, and saw a few temps charging in. He was about to brace himself when suddenly a sharp, searing pain shot through his right lower back.

The pain twisted his face into a grimace. He looked in that direction and saw a young man, hands trembling as he gripped a saber—the tip already buried in his waist.

He roared, “You sneak attacked me!”

James Bolton turned pale with fright.

The stench of blood made him feel weak all over.

He… had killed someone.

Before William Carter could turn to stab James Bolton,

Edward Smith and the others seized the chance to knock William Carter to the ground. A group of people pinned him down tightly as William Carter howled in unwillingness, utterly humiliated.

It was finally over.

Henry Cooper had already lit a torch and came over excitedly, asking, “How is it, what’s the situation…”

By the torchlight, the face of William Carter, pinned firmly to the ground, was clearly visible—full of unwillingness and rage.

James Bolton let out a long sigh of relief.

Edward Smith said excitedly, “He’s still alive! Looks like we’ve captured him alive. Excellent, excellent!”

But Henry Cooper asked suspiciously, “Is this really William Carter?”

Edward Smith squatted down, showing a look of respect toward William Carter. William Carter cursed for a while, then said, “Let that kid… cough, cough… come here…”

James Bolton thought, I wasn’t afraid of you just now, why would I be afraid now? So he strode over and said, “You’re William Carter?”

William Carter snorted coldly, “I, Zhao, never change my name or surname whether walking or sitting. If I am, I am; if not, I’m not… But… may I ask which hero you are?”

He stared hard at James Bolton, looking surprisingly serious.

Before James Bolton could answer, a temp next to him said, “Even if we told you, you wouldn’t know. This is Captain Bolton of the Jinyiwei’s son, James Bolton!”

“James Bolton… that good-for-nothing…” When William Carter heard this, his eyes bulged. Just now, he’d seemed relatively calm—after all, as a notorious bandit, he’d faced countless dangers.

But now, William Carter couldn’t keep his composure. He was extremely agitated, his blood surging, and the blood from his lower back, which had been trickling like a stream, now gushed out like a flood.

He stared wide-eyed and let out a furious roar: “Heavens above…”

The roar startled countless birds in the dark forest, sending them flying into the sky.

The next moment, William Carter’s head lolled to the side—he was dead. Yet his eyes remained wide open, looking terrifying in the torchlight.

James Bolton jumped in shock. “I only stabbed him once, and he died?”

After all, he’d been alive and kicking just a moment ago!

James Bolton felt a vague sense of guilt—he really hadn’t wanted to kill anyone.